Shards of Light
by Splintered Star
Summary: Seto Kaiba sits inside of himself, putting himself together so he can go back to his brother. It's hard, but he has time....doesn't he? Set about Duelist Volume 2


(Not mine, obviously. Set during Duelist Volume 2, with spoilers up to that point. Vague prideshippy bits, if you squint a bit. I'm not sure how that happened.)

Seto Kaiba is at peace, for once. He sits inside of his mind or somewhere like it, slowly putting the pieces of himself back together. He's assembled the pieces before, put them together again and again, but he doesn't stop reforming it, switching pieces around and turning them this way and that way. He won't stop, not until it was perfect.

He always has Mokuba at the center, though. That won't ever change, can't change. Mokuba had been at the center at first, but Seto - foolish Seto - had pushed him to the side, pushed him out to the edge, until he was on the outside, just another piece to be tossed aside.

Seto will never let that happen again, even if it kills him.

He still has work to do, though, because his soul isn't perfect yet. He has to be perfect, strong and unbeatable but not so obsessed that he forgets Mokuba again. He can't and won't let that happen.

He's not quite sure how it happened in the first place, how Mokuba had slipped to the side – no, not slipped. Seto had pushed him, refused to acknowledge him. It had been the only way to protect him but it wasn't supposed to be true! It won't be true any more, regardless, and he hopes that will be enough. It won't be enough for the past, but hopefully it will be enough for the future.

He has time to make it perfect, though. All the time in the world, though he doesn't want to keep Mokuba waiting too long...But he wouldn't, would he? It didn't feel like he had been in this odd, in-between place in his mind for very long....Not that there's any way to tell. It's comfortable here, calm and silent and peaceful like he's never known since he was far younger, a time almost out of memory. But he's fairly sure this is his own mind, or somewhere like it, so perhaps it is no wonder he likes it here.

It's not quite right, though. Something tugs at his mind, distracting him from his work. Something's gone, something important and he can't focus. He keeps working though, sliding piece after piece into place – no, move that one over here, it fits better, glue it there with darkness and light… - because he can't afford to be less than perfect, can't afford to be anything less than everything Mokuba needs. Distractions must be ignored.

He tears it apart again, because that won't work, it's too weak on the sides… He reaches to pull out Mokuba's piece, so he can start forming around it again. He can always tell which one is Mokuba, the cornerstone of his heart. It gleams like a dragon's scale, bright green and _alive _in a way Seto had almost forgotten how to understand. .

His hand touches Mokuba's piece, tugs it out from the center of himself – and something sends shockwaves up his arm and freezes him in place. Something is WRONG, something big and he curses his inattention. He feels sick just touching it, wrongness and fear twisting his stomach in knots. It's not his fear, though, not his so whose…

…no.

It's Mokuba's fear, Mokuba's hurt, and Seto stands up snarling, scattering pieces of himself everywhere. He'd been distracted, selfish, he should have known! He's wasted too much time on himself and now Mokuba was suffering for it just as before. He has to wake up and find him, because if Mokuba is hurt then perfection isn't worth it.

He tries to reach his body's controls, tries to force it get up and _move_ and stop wasting time. But the controls are sticky, stiff, and when he tries to go back he's thrown back into the pile of puzzle pieces. They dig into the back he doesn't really have, and he glares at them. He wasn't done yet, of course, but he has more important things to do!

He stands, pacing around them and through them, kicking a few in frustration and feeling sympathy pains in the respective parts of himself. He needs to get back, but he can't get back and Mokuba is hurt. Damn Yuugi, he mutters to himself and barely notices when the shadows swirl in recognition of the name. Damn Yuugi, damn his magic, and damn his victory.

If Yuugi hadn't won, a part of his mind whispers – the part he just kicked, he realizes – if Yuugi hadn't won then Mokuba would be dead by your hand and you know it. And he does, and he hates it, but none of this is helping right now! Seto looks around, seeing himself in tatters and his mind scattered apart, broken into a million pieces and devastated…

No, no, if he tried to do anything right now he'd be useless. His mind is too weak, too shattered to be of any use. No wonder he can't control his body – he probably hasn't reconnected the right nerves. He hates to wait, hates knowing that he can't jump to action and save Mokuba, but he has to be able to, so he sits down and gathers up the pieces again.

Desperation drives his movements now, snapping pieces together with frantic energy, nerve ending to nerve ending, forcing control back onto his body. He had to be strong, strong enough to protect Mokuba and keep from falling apart. The perfect positions appear easily now and he slides the bits in, making himself strong and solid. If Mokuba needs him, then he can't afford to crack under pressure.

He grabs another piece; bright blue and shining like lightening. His dragon, his power and the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. His Blue Eyes Dragon – his soul's strength and hope. He looks at the piece, admiring it for half a second before sliding it into its place right next to Mokuba.

But there's something wrong with it, the sheen tarnished and blemished with ugly, oily fingerprints. Not his fingerprints, because for all he'd done to them he'd never tried to drag his dragons down with him, and this piece above all others except Mokuba's he kept shining and clear. Not Gozaburo's fingerprints, either, like the ones leaking darkness, tucked away in nooks and crannies of his mind that he couldn't scrape off –yet, yet, he will rid himself one day. So what could cause…

Someone else is using his dragons.

He stands, snarling and setting the piece aside. Not only have they hurt Mokuba – Seto knows, instinctively, that there is only one 'they' involved – not only have they hurt Mokuba but they've stolen his dragons. He picks the piece up again, wiping away some of the fingerprints with a sleeve he's not really wearing, but it works. It doesn't matter how.

He should keep working, keep sliding himself back together so he can fight and save all these precious shining pieces of his soul, but the thought of putting those slimy fingerprints inside of himself makes him shudder. It's still his dragon, still his soul, but with the smears and grease streaking the surface he can't bear to put it in place. Not without cleaning it off first.

Time is crucial, right now, but so is strength, so he tries not to rush himself, even though it's making him shake a bit. With one hand he assembles the pieces, leaving a space for the Blue Eyes, and with the other he tries to clean the fingerprints off of his dragon. But for everyone he wipes off, six appear in its place to spoil the pure blue of the piece. It's infuriating, and he knows he won't be able to get it completely clean until the bastard using them is gone.

There's nothing he can do until his dragons are free, because he can't leave without them in place but he can't put them in as they are. They deserve to be clean and pure, but he can't save them and he can't stand it. He picks up the piece and it thrums in his hand, responding to him and his anger, and with a power he doesn't remember how he knows he pushes his control _in_…

Suddenly, he's in his dragon and he is his dragon, the Blue Eyes flaring to life around him. Bright white light blinds him after so long inside of himself, but that's okay because his dragon can still see. He can still feel those fingers on him, greasy and he hates the feeling, knowing someone else is touching his dragon.

He flaps his wings in curiosity, and for just a moment all of his troubles are forgotten in the sheer wonder and glory of finally being able to fly for real. But then reality snaps back in his mind, and he doesn't have the time to waste. One day he'll be able to fly in his dragon, but right now he has more important things to do.

His mind, though not his body, looks back at the _bastard_ using his dragons in a duel. It's some crony – he has a sniveling, subservient look to him hidden under his mask and smirk. There's a part of Seto's soul there, trapped in a doll. Hmph. His thirst for revenge and his foolish rage, the dark weakness that doomed him before. The crony can keep it. Seto hasn't missed it. That part of him is soaked in Gozaburo's darkness, polluting the rest of his soul with its tainted power. It destroyed him once, and he has no use for it now.

Swinging around, he looks to his dragon's opponent, whoever is unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of his dragon's rage. He looks…and looses himself for half a second in impossibly purple eyes. Half a second, just half – because in the next moment the eyes close with a shouted order to attack from the crony.

He knows those eyes, can never forget those eyes that set his pulse racing and his heart leaping to his throat. Not-Yuugi – the back of his mind whispers a name, fast and quiet and Seto doesn't quite hear it – is losing, and the bastard using his cards and hurting Mokuba will win if something doesn't change. The bastard doesn't deserve to win, doesn't deserve to use his cards, and doesn't deserve to lay a finger on his dragons!

His will and the power he doesn't remember bursts out of him, and if he can make the monsters live out of stone, than he can take them apart. The dragon starts to fade, fizzing out of existence just for a little while. Seto hates to do this to his Blue Eyes, but if it means protecting Mokuba he'll sacrifice even this part of himself. Not-Yuugi stares at him in shock, and as the dragon turns to smoke Seto wonders if Yuugi can see through the dragon and see him.

Not-Yuugi's voice, or something like it, whispers Seto's name on the back of the smoke and time. Just as it reaches Seto's mind, he falls out of the dragon and back into himself, grabbing the piece of himself in the doll as he falls. The piece is evil, tainted, but himself still, and no one should have pieces of his soul but himself and Mokuba.

He falls back into the place where he was, with his soul mostly assembled, spare pieces scattered around the floor. He crushes his darkness and revenge, smashing it under his shoe like a cigar. He doesn't relish the comparison, but it works. It leaves a smear, and bits are stuck to the other pieces, but he can deal with those later.

He has more important things to do, so he puts the dragon back into himself and then he's falling again, onto his soul. He tries to twist out of the way, because he'll destroy it and have to waste more time. Then he hits it and falls _through_....

He's back in his body, standing for real now, and the thoughts and knowledge a moment ago are already fading. He whispers back to Yuugi, and he doesn't know why. But it doesn't matter, and even as the maid whose name he never bothered to learn cries out he's planning how to get to Mokuba. He doesn't remember how he knows Mokuba is hurt, but he knows and that is enough.

He turns to face the world again, and hopes that he can make it in time.


End file.
